The Coils Lie like Bands Across My Soul
by SemperSomnium
Summary: Jack was young when he first saw a man die. Gen.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.

**A/N:** No pairing, simply a moment in the life of young Jack. I may one day continue it, but at this time it seems unlikely. Enjoy!

**~.o.0.o.~**

The Coils Lie like Bands Across My Soul

(I Don't Know How to Shake Them Loose)

**~.o.0.o.~**

Jack was young when he first saw a man die.

It wasn't too long after his father left for the last time, he thinks. His mother had been brittle for a good year after the elder Sparrow walked out the door without ever intending to come back; she'd been shabby and tattered like the old sheet at home, worn to near-transparency with gaping holes peeking through the cloth.

He doesn't know exactly what age he was; the memory of his youth alternates between crystal clear moments and a vague knowledge that _this_ must have happened _then_. He supposes memories might be so for everyone, but as he is, in fact, _him_ and not _them_, he can't know for certain. He wonders what it would be like though, to remember every word, every action, and every thought; to know exactly when the fissures that scar his soul began to crack.

He remembers the press of a crowd at his back though. Humid and loud, jostling against his mother who stood, worn thin and threadbare protection against people so riled. She'd leaned down over him, delicate hands pressed sharply into his shoulders.

"Look, Jack. _Watch,_" she'd murmured in his ear, fierce and desperate.

He'd looked up at the wooden deck looming over him and the man standing there with rope coiled around his neck and wondered what he was supposed to see.

Billy from down the road had told him of giant snakes once, ones that could grow to be as long as a ship and as fat as a horse. He'd said that they coiled themselves around a person and _squeezed_, turning bones to kindling and muscle to soup, until there wasn't any life left. Jack hadn't believed him, had laughed and pushed Billy into a puddle for having him on. He'd asked his father though, later that evening, but Teague had just winked mysteriously and said that Jack might have to find the truth on his own. (He found one, years later. It wasn't as long as a ship or as fat as a horse, but it was close enough to that Jack had swiftly vacated the area.)

Watching the man shiver up on the wooden deck in little more than his breeches and undershirt, hands bound and rope curled around his neck, Jack had wondered if he would see one of those giant snakes then. Had wondered if the rope would come alive and coil itself around the man and maybe _squeeze..._

But instead the bottom of the deck gave way in what turned out to be a trap door, and the rope snapped taught, loud enough to almost drown out the crack of what Jack would only later realise was the sound of a breaking neck. The man had jerked, face lax and eyes wide, terrified – empty, as Jack watched, stunned, for a moment not comprehending what he was seeing.

"Jack, Jack," and his mother's hands where pulling him round, pressing his face into her bosom. The achingly familiar smell of her did more to soothe him than the rough, desperate petting of his hair. "Shush my baby, 'tis okay now, 'tis okay. Shush, I'm here," (Much later, years later, Jack would idly wonder how he had believed her so easily, calmed so quickly, when his father was most emphatically absent.) "I'm here."

She had pulled away enough to search his eyes, looking for something that he didn't know if she could find in his face. (He wondered if it had looked something like his father.)

"Did y'see, though?" Her gaze kept searching his. "Did y'see, Jack, what happens to pirates?"

And it's only then that Jack realised that the man who hung from the end of the rope must have had a large 'P' branded into his wrist. He'd wondered if burning flesh hurt worse than a snake squeezing the life out of you.

"Pirates get the hangman's noose Jack. _Nothing_ more. Never forget it." She'd whispered fiercely. "Promise me." She'd shaken him when he didn't answer right away. "_Promise_ _me_ Jack!"

And he'd nodded, scared, and stammered, "Ye-Yes ma'am, yes. I promise."

A moment, crystal clear: a dead man's feet twitching over dull dirt and empty air, and his mother, hard and fierce when she wasn't full of holes.

(He'd never forgotten. Sometimes, some days, he feels like he's just waiting for the coarse coils of a snake to wrap around his neck and _squeeze_.

He thinks that maybe his mother had seen Teague in him after all.)

**~.o.0.o.~**

**Author's Request: **Please leave a review, I really appreciate any and all comments!


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